


Being Chase'd

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Assassin AU [2]
Category: Transformers - Aligned Continuity Family, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Assassins & Hitmen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Prowl never loses track of a mark unless he’s done with them. When it comes to a certain forensic accountant, he’s not.Originally posted as part ofAU Yeah August 2018. Separating it out to make it easier to follow as the series continues.





	Being Chase'd

Jazz was not a morning mech. He never had been, he never would be, and solar-cycles of university and daytime jobs hadn’t changed any of that. Fortunately for Jazz and Jazz’s morning duties, the café on the ground floor of his apartment building made a fantastic Shot in the Dark. The blend of concentrated jet fuel to mid-grade was just perfect and kept him alert until his more natural waking time of noon. He hadn’t had it in deca-cycles. After the legendarily ethical assassin Prowl had warned him that local mob-head Barricade had taken a hit out on him, Jazz had spent a good deal of time in protective custody. A sufficient quantity of Barricade had been found to declare the mech deceased and the protection had come to an end. Jazz’s normal life had finally resumed, and he was starting it with a Shot in the Dark.

The barista greeted him with his name and a friendly wave, asking if he wanted his usual. Jazz confirmed, told the barista it was good to see him again and went to wait for his drink. He wasn’t paying any particular attention to any of the other customers until a voice he’d never forget placed an order.

“A Nightcrawler, please,” Prowl said. “Medium.”

“Ouff, triple shot!” The barista chirped. “Big day?”

“Long night, running overtime,” Prowl’s smooth baritone said.

“Well, this’ll hold you over. Name?”

“Chase.”

“Alright, Chase, that’s four shanix, and it’ll be up in a couple kliks right over there.”

Jazz’s drink was almost up, but even if he’d had it in hand, he didn’t think he could get away unnoticed. Not from Prowl anyway.

“Hello again, Jazz,” Prowl purred into his audial. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again. You do remember me, yes? Chase?”

That was both information and a warning. Jazz’s drink was up, and he grabbed it and took a too-hot sip to cover his reaction.

“Easy there,” Prowl said with a smirk, lounging against the counter. “Haven’t I only done right by you so far?”

“You - !” Jazz caught himself and lowered his voice. “You broke into my apartment.”

“Nonsense. Your door was open, I just walked in.”

“You’ve been _stalking_ me,” Jazz hissed.

“Not at all. Stalking means I believe we have a relationship. I was surveilling you, and I stopped after I warned you.” Prowl accepted his drink from the barista with thanks and straightened up again. “I trust you’re taking the subway today? Let’s walk to the station, don’t want you to be late on your first day back.”

“I – but – “ Despite his objections, Jazz found himself walking with Prowl. It was as if the other mech just swept him along despite not even touching him.

“Anyway,” Prowl continued, as if the conversation never deviated, “as I said, I was surveilling you, not stalking you. I’m not stalking you now, either. I’ve not been anywhere near you since that night, and I approached you openly today. Do you want me to go away?”

“What do you mean?” Jazz asked suspiciously. Even though, as far as he could tell, Prowl had been entirely forthright with him it felt as if everything the assassin said had a double meaning.

Prowl shrugged. “Exactly what I said: do you want me to go away? If you do, say so. I will not approach you. I will not surveil you. I will not accept contracts on you, even provisionally. I will not, in any way, seek you out.” He sipped at his drink. “Mm. I see why you like the place. Now. If you _don’t_ want me to go away, well, I will be rather pleased. I suspect there’s more to you than you let be seen. I mean, really: _Jazz_? Not exactly the designation of a number-cruncher, is it?”

“It’s the designation I was sparked with,” Jazz said defensively. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You know, this is a nice little street,” Prowl remarked, glancing around. “I never get down to this end of town. Have you been in that shop?”

“Prowl…” Jazz gritted out, restraining himself by realizing snapping at a hired killer wasn’t the smartest idea.

“Take my designation for instance,” Prowl continued. “Stealth. Caution. Hunting. I was _sparked_ for what I do. It’s right, it fits. The thought of ‘jazz’ on the other hand brings to mind improvisation, enthusiasm, a free spirit. You sit in an office all day going over numbers. Is it an old story? You wanted to be, mmm I don’t know, a musician or something that lets you innovate and your creators wanted you to have something solid and respectable to fall back on. So you did, and you got stuck. You’re good at your job, you make just enough of the right connections with lateral thinking to keep you from being completely miserable, but are you _happy_? Pay attention,” Prowl added, grasping Jazz’s elbow and steering him down the ramp to the subway station. “I’m grateful to see you’re thinking over my question, but you do need to earn shanix somehow.”

Jazz didn’t bother to tell him that it was less thinking and more total and complete disruption of a routine he’d been – been –

A routine he’d been _expecting_ to get back to. Not looking forward to. Just expecting.

“What should I do? Run away and be,” he killed the words ‘your partner’ as they queued for his vocalizer, aware Prowl would pounce on the double meaning, “employed in your field?”

Prowl shrugged. “Why not? I’m perfectly happy in what I do. It’s hardly the last resort of the miserable.” He squeezed Jazz’s elbow again. “ _Attention_ , Jazz. We’re at your platform. But in all seriousness, you should find something you enjoy if you can, not just something that gets you by. I watched you closely for weeks and do you know how often I saw you smile? Three times. A genuine smile, not one given for politeness’ sake, only three times. It’s a shame: you could charm clients out of an extra ten percent with that smile. Twenty, once you cast off the morality of doing it.”

“If I’ve been so miserable the entire time you watched me,” Jazz countered, “what do you know about my charm?”

Prowl smiled at him and took a step back. “There’s your train. Don’t be late.”

“P – _Chase_!”

Prowl took another step back and vanished into the crowd. Frustrated, unnerved, and fascinated, Jazz could only board his train and be whisked off to his job.

It was only later that day he realized he’d never answered the question about whether he wanted Prowl to go away or not. It was a solid deca-cycle before he saw Prowl again, ordering another Nightcrawler at the café.

“Hello again, Chase,” Jazz said as they waited for their drinks.

“Jazz. Do you have an answer for me? _Do_ you want me to go away?” The assassin’s optics were bright, mischievous, curious.

Jazz had thought about that a lot, and he still wasn’t sure he had an answer. The smart thing would be to say ‘yes,’ but he’d done the smart thing for so long and, as Prowl noted, he wasn’t happy. Oh, he wasn’t miserable either, Prowl had been right about that too, but he could see it coming, down the line. He could – he could at least try a change, couldn’t he? Prowl was well known to be ethical and had made it clear that if Jazz told him to leave he would. Maybe it was worth the chance?

Jazz met Prowl’s gaze. “I don’t know. Convince me to say ‘stay.’”

Prowl’s smile widened, dangerous and – yes – sexy. Jazz wondered what he’d just gotten himself into but didn’t have so much doubt he called things off.

“I shall be delighted,” Prowl purred.

**Author's Note:**

> A 'Shot in the Dark' is a cup of coffee with a shot of espresso in it. Also, the name of an Ozzy Osbourne song, 'Nightcrawler' is a song by Judas Priest.  
> \---  
> I refuse to apologize for the pun that is the title, fight me.  
> 


End file.
